


Saturdays at the Drive-In

by compo67



Series: Chicago Verse [44]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Couch Sex, Domestic Fluff, Drive-In Movie, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Series, Sex in the Impala, Squabbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:59:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only a few drive-ins left; Dean is determined to make their visit a regular thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturdays at the Drive-In

All cars must park next to a silver pole, as close to it as possible.

For Dean, this is not a problem. He cackles to himself when he sees other people around them struggle with the concept of parking their car. A man in a Hummer threatens a few of the cars around him as he attempts to back into a space. After a few concerned shrieks from the owners of the almost-victims, the man gives up and hands the keys to his wife. She backs into the space perfectly. Dean would buy her a drink if this was that kind of place.

They got here early, to beat the suburbanites obsessed with arriving on time to things. All of Dean’s insistence on leaving with enough time to account for traffic on the highway and figuring out the roads up north. So far, it’s been a nice break from the city. The speed-limit said fifty-five but he pulled eighty. On Route 12, there was no one behind or in front of him for four miles. They passed the occasional, dimly lit gas station and Lutheran churches that had seen better days. A lake caught their attention towards the end of the drive. Seems like it might be a good place to park.

The space Dean claimed is perfect. Not too close and not too far, and right smack in the middle of the screen. He refuses to leave baby’s battery on for the sound to come in through the radio, so they pay an extra five dollars for the speaker on the pole to turn on.

Everything is set up and ready. Except for the snacks.

“They didn’t have jalapenos, so please refrain from complaining to me about it,” Sam grumbles, shoving a tray of nachos into the car through the passenger’s window. “Also, they didn’t have peanut M&Ms, only plain, so that’s what you got.”

Two slices of pizza, the nachos, and two hot dogs are passed over. Sam opens his door and gets back in, settling his chicken legs in the foot well, holding two glass bottles of Coke. Dean doesn’t usually allow food or sticky beverages inside baby, but he makes an exception for tonight. “Took you long enough,” Dean comments, taking his Coke before it can be withheld from him. He pops the top off with a bottle opener on his keys. “Did they have to kill the pizza?”

“Yes, Dean, they had to kill the pizza. That’s exactly why it took so fucking long.” Sam grabs the opener without asking for it.

“I knew a woman who could open bottles with her nipples.”

The look Sam gives is one of disgust and confusion as his mind tries to work out the process. The opportunity is taken to swipe the M&Ms from Sam’s lap.

“You’re gonna get sick,” Sam warns.

“Guess who’s gonna have to deal with it?”

“Uh, not me.”

“You love takin’ care of me, Sammy.”

“You are grossly misinformed. Euw, Dean, close your mouth!”

Through a mouthful of melted M&Ms, Dean sputters, “Das not wha you said las’ nigh.”

Unfortunately, anything that happened last night has no chance of happening tonight. This is a family drive-in, which means that in between cars, brats have been running and shouting, oblivious to all manners or courtesy for others. Even if they parked in the back, employees have already been sighted walking up and down lanes with flashlights, checking up on people. Their time here is relegated to PG moments. While Sam whines about the cold and how it was a smart idea to come to a drive-in movie at the end of October, Dean consumes his junk food and thinks back to the night before.

Sometimes sex is complicated. Sometimes it isn’t. All he did last night was start with a kiss. He nosed Sam’s jaw and planted one on his mouth as they lay on the couch. One kiss was many and his hands never left the firm curve of Sam’s ass. Keeping packets of lube in the couch cushions has been one of the most brilliant ideas Dean has ever had. Under a fleece blanket, with the television still on, Dean pushed himself into Sam, slick and hard and hungry. The weight of Sam above him was perfect. Pressure squeezed his cock as Sam adjusted, and Dean pushed for Sam to lean in closer. Chest to chest, they settled on the couch.

Dean spread his thighs and pistoned up, his cock twitching with every hitch in Sam’s breath. Sam sealed their mouths together, breaking only to match the sounds Dean would make. Simple. Thrust, fuck, pound. Simple. Gasp, hiss, bite. Simple. The sound of it, the smell of them, and the arch of Sam’s back.

Simple. Knowing that this would happen again.

“Dean.”

The whisper of his name into his ear, followed by the tight corkscrew of Sam’s hips and the clench of his ass all over the length of Dean.

“Dean.”

“What?” Dean snaps, flinching in his seat. “God dammit, what is it?”

Stupid, smug dimples flash even in the dark of the Impala. “You’re breathing really hard and your hand has been in the popcorn bucket for the last two minutes.”

Blinking, Dean looks at his right hand, which is indeed buried in the popcorn bucket. He takes back his hand, wiping off the butter and salt on a napkin that Sam provides.

“Oh,” Sam adds, looking even smugger than he did thirty seconds ago. “And you’re tenting, dude.”

Dean looks down at his lap and sees that Sam is correct. Blood has been rushing to that particular spot in his body this entire time.

There aren’t any cars on either side of them, a stroke of luck. This is the perfect spot. An SUV is not in front of them, blocking their view, and they happen to be away from families with kids. A crackle on the speaker, which hangs in Dean’s window, sounds out and an announcement is made that the movie will start in ten minutes. People are advised not to keep their batteries on to prevent problems later.

In the backseat their supplies rest until needed: two bottles of water for each of them, two fleece blankets, and extra sweaters just in case. But so far, Dean isn’t cold at all.

He stretches out in his seat and adjusts himself.

Headlights around them shut off in preparation for the start of the movie. This is a good place. They have movies every Saturday night, and for eight bucks a person, it’s not a bad deal. The stars can be seen, lingering behind the giant screen. This is open country. The worst of their problems are teenagers and their flashlights. Piece of cake. This can be a thing. Not a date-night or any of that crap. But it can be their new thing.

Because sometimes it’s complicated. And sometimes it’s simple.

Dean kicks Sam.

“So?” Dean snips.

“What?” Sam should know better than to ask, but he doesn’t. Perfect.

Dean points to the tent of his cock in his jeans.

“Ain’t gonna suck itself, Sammy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Super late for work! will edit/rework the summary later. enjoy!


End file.
